NaPoWriMo: Day eight

She kept a jar filled with hummingbird feathers.

Every morning she would take one out,

Examine it,

Place it in her hair,

Tucked behind her ear,

And proceed to dance

To a tune specific to the colour of that feather.

The day she met you

It was a midnight blue.

She danced to The Smiths.


Wisdom is a Swan, Love is a Magpie, Death is a Songbird…

My soul is a hummingbird
Floating on flowers I no longer know the names of
At night, I glow purple
My heart, she glows red
I’m an emperor
A monarch of monarchs
A city of kings and lights
If you met me at a sunset
You’d see my minarets carving up the sky
Inside my chambers
My words dance in cursive to blues music
Played on a ’50s radio made of mosaics and gold leaf feathers
My walls are filled with all the memories I forgot
The circle window
The dinosaur slippers
The dead feathers
The first strong voice I heard, it must have been my father’s
He taught me how to stand
In this body made of salt and lighthouses
I hand out my lights daily
Pray they come back
Sometimes they do
Sometimes I wish they’d bring someone new
And she could outrun me just fine
But she would stay and listen to the echoes of every tree I ever saw
Playing softly behind my eyes
And I would kiss her like
Her lips were gospel
And lean my head on her shoulder like it was redemption

Alone at night
I glow yellow
I wonder if she sees me.